<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I'll Watch the Rain for You by timewritesabook</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368409">I'll Watch the Rain for You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/timewritesabook/pseuds/timewritesabook'>timewritesabook</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:33:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/timewritesabook/pseuds/timewritesabook</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On a rainy day, Oliver and Elio have a much-needed conversation and reaffirm their feelings for each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oliver &amp; Elio Perlman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Watch the Rain for You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I emptied the sachet of cocoa powder into my cup of steaming, hot milk and began stirring it as I looked outside my kitchen window. The clouds had spread themselves for as far as I could see, almost as if they were in a rush to protect mankind from seeing what was on the other side; they were turning greyer too, as if the things they saw drained them of all their colors. Maybe I was anthropomorphizing, but I felt a lot like the clouds these days – aimless and colorless. I know that these things don’t discriminate, but, I had everything a human could ask for – I was studying what I loved, I had people who loved me for who I was, I had a place to live, and I had Oliver. I hoped it was just melancholy, or better, I hoped it was nothing at all.</p><p>I walked out of the kitchen and found myself staring at Oliver. He was sitting on the bed, with his back against the wall, in his boxers and the blue shirt he had worn earlier today to work. He was surrounded by a sea of papers – colored and plain, full of scribbles and checkmarks and crossed-out sentences, and a laptop that only worked if it were plugged into an outlet. He had been working on a book lately. I learned that he didn’t like talking too much about what he was working on because he was afraid it would never live up to expectations. <em>Your or mine, Oliver?</em> – I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. He wouldn’t get himself a new laptop, because<em> this one still works.</em> He would sit for hours at the laptop trying to figure out his words, and then rewrite them in his meticulous penmanship because <em>otherwise, it doesn’t feel like I did the work.</em> I didn’t know why he still punished himself this way; sometimes I worry I’m still the reason why.</p><p>“Oliver, I made some hot chocolate. Do you want some?”</p><p>“Still on that diet, Elio,” he replied without looking up. “Thank you for asking though.”</p><p>I returned to my corner of the room, a spot on the floor next to the trash-can by my desk and readjusted the table-lamp so that I could read the instructions for my assignment once more. The words hadn’t changed since I last looked at it – <em>Using the prompts given below, compose a minute-long piece on an instrument of your choice that best represents your current self</em>. I re-read my composition twice over; it had some good bits but lacked any coherence. Not too bad for a self-portrait, eh?</p><p>Suddenly, Oliver’s alarm, the one that made me irrationally angry that he couldn’t wake up without, blared in the room distracting me from my thoughts. I snorted with laughter as I watched Oliver nervously rustle through his papers trying to find his phone.</p><p>“It’s still in your pocket,” I replied with a straight face, secretly enjoying his fear. “In your pants. They’re on the floor.”</p><p>Oliver retrieved his phone and quickly turned the alarm off before apologizing sheepishly.</p><p>“Why do you have an alarm for 9.00 pm?” I asked, “It’s not even close to bedtime yet.”</p><p>“The electricity might go out because of the storm today. I just wanted to remind myself to save my work and get the candles out.”</p><p>“Emergency lights are a thing, Oliver. They have been invented,” I retorted.</p><p>The moment the words left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say - Oliver had recently, and rather reluctantly, confessed his love for candle-lit dinners. Tonight would have been the perfect opportunity to connect. We hadn’t been spending a lot of time together. He had been busy with his classes and his book, and I had been busy with my classes and my internship. Between his schedule and my depression, we hadn’t spent any meaningful time together, and Oliver, he saw through that and unlike me, made an attempt to rekindle the sparks, and I had doused the embers. Just as always.</p><p>“I don’t know, Elio,” he sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “I just thought we could have that dinner we talked about. An excuse for us to spend time together.”</p><p>I shut my eyes in regret before I looked back at him. “I’m sorry. I misspoke.”</p><p>Oliver stood up from the bed, turned his back to me, and began rearranging his papers. “It’s okay,” he whispered, as his face now reflected in the newly blank screen of his laptop. “I should have asked if you wanted to do something tonight.”</p><p>“I do. I’m sorry. I really am,” I said, as my voice betrayed my desperation. “I would really like that, Oliver. Please.”</p><p>He finally said, “Yeah. I just need a minute, okay? Let me go freshen up.”</p><p>He put his papers away, removed his shirt, and picked his pants up from the floor, before dropping them in the laundry hamper and disappearing into the bathroom. In the meantime, I gathered all my things and dumped them on my desk. I walked over to the bed, fluffed the pillows, and sat with my back propped up against the wall and waited. The rain was falling harder now; the storm was here. </p><p>I listened to the rain pattering up against the window, and I listened to the water running in the bathroom. I must have dozed off sometime after that because the next thing I remembered was Oliver walking towards our bed with a candle in his hand, in an otherwise dark room.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Did I wake you up?”</p><p>“No,” – I stretched my arms out – “I must have fallen asleep.”</p><p>“It’s okay, go back to sleep. I was going to put this out anyway.”</p><p>“No!” I replied as I shook my head violently. “Come lay in bed with me.”</p><p>Oliver gingerly put the candle on the nightstand, and fished his phone out from his pocket, before turning it off and putting it next to the candle. He took his shorts off, slipped under the covers, and lay on his back and I followed suit.</p><p>“Copycat!” he teased. I nudged him with my left foot in mock-protest, but he wrapped his legs around it and held it place. I didn’t want my right foot to feel lonely, so I let it be tucked between his legs. We looked at our intertwined feet, and then at each other and smiled. I moved my right hand to his face and began caressing his cheek gently. He closed his eyes in pleasure, before grabbing my palm, planting a kiss on it, and holding it in his hand.</p><p>“You look so beautiful, Oliver,” I said. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”</p><p>“Have you seen yourself? I’m nothing in front of you.”</p><p>“No, don’t say that,” I said, as I brought my palm to his lips. “You are beautiful.”</p><p>He moved my palm away and kissed me chastely on my lips before laying on his back again.</p><p>“How is school going for you? I feel like I haven’t asked in a while.”</p><p>“It’s fine. It’s okay. Nothing worth mentioning,” I answered, as I looked down at our feet.</p><p>“You were working on something earlier today?”</p><p>“Yeah, just this assignment. A composition that is supposed to be a self-portrait.”</p><p>“Can I hear it sometime? I’d love to.”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>My mother always said that the health of a relationship was best determined by the ability of the people in it to be in silence with each other. We had loved the silence once, as our bodies betrayed the depths of our feelings that no words could ever convey. What had happened to us? When did we become the kind of couple that couldn’t talk to each other?</p><p>“This is a little awkward, isn’t it?” I murmured.</p><p>“A little.”</p><p>“What’s on your mind?”</p><p>“I … Do you really want to know?”</p><p>“Yes. Always.”</p><p>“Sometimes I think you don’t want me around anymore,” Oliver said, looking squarely at the ceiling. “Is it true? I know that I’m over a lot more often these days, but if you want the apartment to yourself, you can just say. I have a feeling my presence isn’t as wanted as it used to be.”</p><p>“No. It has – “</p><p>“You can say so, Elio. Really. I won’t hold it against you.”</p><p>“Stop it. Stop saying things like that. Why would you say something like that? Gosh,” I said as I hastily wiped my tears, “why the fuck am I crying?”</p><p> “Hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t – “</p><p>“Oliver, I’m sorry I made you feel that way. It’s not you. It’s never you. I would never want to be away from you. It’s me. I think something is wrong with me. It has been for a while now. My brain feels broken. It just feels off, you know.  I go to college and I meet all my friends and we have fun. We laugh together, we play our instruments together. It’s like I know what I am supposed to feel like, I can remember what it once felt like, but I can’t feel that way anymore. I would have been okay if I was unhappy or sad or angry, but it’s the nothingness that frustrates me the most; and being around people, you know how hard it is for me, and I am trying. I try so hard, but it just feels so much more difficult lately. It demands so much of me that by the time I’m home, I can’t even bring myself to change out of my clothes, let alone spend meaningful time with you. I’m not avoiding you, Oliver. I just don’t have the energy anymore. It’s just too hard, and I’m so sick of it.”</p><p>“How long have you been feeling this way?”</p><p>“A while now. Since the start of this semester.”</p><p>“Elio! That’s over three months now!”</p><p>“I know, I know. I’m sorry. At first, I thought it was just temporary. I thought it would go away, and I wouldn’t have to tell you about it. I tried everything I could think of – exercise, food, sleep, and for a while, it helped. I was getting better, and we only saw each other a couple of times in the week anyway, so I could just pretend like it wasn’t a problem. But then it got worse, and ever since you started writing your book, you’ve been here more often and you stay for longer; not that it’s a problem or anything, I like having you over; it’s just that I didn’t know how or what to say.”</p><p>“I think it’s time you should talk to a professional.”</p><p>I sighed. “It’s that bad, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I’m afraid so. Come here,” he said, as he pulled me into a hug. “You are going to get better. You will be able to feel again. This will pass, and until it does, I’m here for you, for anything you want. You don’t have to try to be strong for me or pretend that you’re okay. Don’t learn bad things from me. Learn the good things – like my bedside manner, or my irresistible charm, or my sense of humor.”</p><p>I couldn’t help but giggle as I rolled off him. “You’re not funny.”</p><p>“Don’t say that, my love. You fell in love with me because I made you laugh.”</p><p>“It’s true you made me laugh, but it was because you couldn’t stop driving Mafalda crazy. You just aren’t supposed to mess with her system.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that then!”</p><p>“I told you! If you had paid attention to me back then, you would have remembered.”</p><p>“I did pay attention, but then you who made me feel like I was molesting you.”</p><p>“Stop reminding me of that,” I said, as I playfully shoved him. “I have apologized for that already. On a serious note though, I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t wanted here. You are. Always. Now come, let’s go have that dinner.”</p><p>“Nooo…,” he said as he pulled me back into bed. “Let’s stay in bed.”</p><p>“Aren’t you hungry?”</p><p>He blushed in embarrassment, “No, not really. I just wanted to spend some time with you. That’s all.”</p><p>We spent the next few hours snuggling in bed, laughing, and telling each other inappropriate stories with shadow-puppets we made in the candlelight. All those nights I spent in the summers at the villa without electricity were finally put to good use.</p><p>“How do you know how to make so many animals?” Oliver asked as he recovered from a fit of laughter.</p><p>“Well, I took classes. I knew I had to impress you someday.”</p><p>“Oh, Elio. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”</p><p>“Even when the storm comes?”</p><p>“Even when the storm comes, and when it does," Oliver said, as he snuggled closer to me, “I’ll watch the rain for you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>